Addicted
by Trying to Break Your Heart
Summary: Somewhat smutty little one-shot. Draco and Hermione run into each other one a regular basis... but Hermione knows she shouldn't be giving in. Rated M for sexual situations and some feisty language.


First one-shot in a while so tear me apart if you really have to :p I was too lazy to even edit this so I hope you enjoy it. xoxo 3

As I look in the mirror, I tell myself that this was the last time. Sometimes the grandiose of Hogwarts can get to your head, and lately it's been hard for me to remember that eventually I'll have to be out in the real world again. Even this bathroom… I mean, the damned place is bigger than the house I grew up in. So many of the students here have been raised by the wonders of magic but I've known the muggle world, where some people work their whole lives and end up with nothing. Look at Harry's life… before Hogwarts, the poor kid was living in a broom closet- but ever since he's been here his life has been nothing but nonstop chaos since. The magic folk have no idea how lucky they truly are. The Weasleys for example, sure, they're "poor", but their humble home is more majestic than anything my muggle friends at home could ever imagine.

I brush the curls from my forehead with my fingers and pinched on my cheeks so that I have a little bit of blush. It's hard for me to be here sometimes. Most of the muggle-borns are able to simply enjoy their time here, but sometimes I miss a world where you have to wait ten minutes for the water to boil before I can make a cup of tea. Don't get me wrong- I am not complaining. Most people would look at my life and think I'm one of the luckiest girls in the world. Hermione Granger, the "brightest" witch of my age. What bullshit. I just like to read, if I'm here I might as well learn what I'm supposed to, right? I take one last glance at myself before giving up and leaving the bathroom. Before these meetings, I can never help but to want to look presentable. After all, while I may have been raised by some dentists in a normal magic-free home, he was raised in the most lavish of wizard homes.

Don't ask me how this came to be. He and I really do hate one another, it's not just some façade that I put on to please my friends. Our times together are held between the fine lines of passion. Hatred and loving are much closer than some may think. It takes just as much energy to muster up despise as it does to express desire.

Draco Malfoy and I are not friends. We are not pals. I find it hard to call us lovers, but we aren't always enemies. As I walk away from the bathroom, I hear my footsteps echoing in the vast marble halls. Quite honestly, I am surprised that the portraits don't talk, but I think they know better than to cause the school stress from our little rendezvous. I trail up the grand staircase to the seventh floor, where I know he will be waiting. He's never really in the same spot, but he's always there. I wonder if he waits here every night, hoping that I'll pass by him…. Or maybe hoping that I won't. Most nights I have enough self-control to simply stay in the tiny bed in my dorm, but others I get this burning feeling in my chest, where I find myself being drawn away. Somehow these meetings sate the fire that penetrates me to my core. I don't know if these are the only nights that he's here, that we have some kind of connection that brings us both to the same spot, or if he's always there and I'm the intruder that disrupts his sanction.

I turn a corner, down a dimly-lit hallway, and I feel my heartbeat getting stronger, faster, my steps echoing the its unruly thump. I walk closer to the right wall, relishing in its coolness, contrasting the light perspiration that has built on the back of my neck. I'm anxious, and begin to repeat to myself in my mind, "this is it, this is the last time, no more after this." Christ, I sound like a bloody drug addict. But, in a way, this is what it's like. It's an addiction, I tell myself over and over again that it won't happen another time, but I can't help the draw that I feel. I am addicted to god damned Malfoy. How fucked up is that? Couldn't I have just found a nice Hufflepuff boy to pass the time with? No.

That's all part of the problem. I can't help but to love the forbidden aspect of what we are doing. Between my friends and the hate that he and I have developed for one another over the years, and his heritage and beliefs against everything I am, we really shouldn't be within 3 feet of one another. I don't think that either of us would get the same satisfaction from somebody who is completely "okay" to be with. My breath is starting to become shallow, and the stale air on the seventh floor is ice cold. I'm about to skirt around another corner when I feel two steely hands grab me from behind, one over my mouth, the other around my waist. I close my eyes and let myself be taken, dragged until I'm brought to a stop. I open my eyes to find them locked with the stormy grey that I've grown so accustomed to.

Draco is holding me across his lap, on the floor of a small nook in the corner of some abandoned hallway. One of his hands moves slowly from my waist to cup my left breast, where he squeezes. He isn't gentle… he never is. Like I said, this is a moment driven by our hatred, in desperate attempts to feel together as one. He moves his face close to my ear, and his silky blonde fringe brushes against my eyebrows.

"Granger," he whispers, and removes his second hand from my lips.

"Malfoy," I acknowledge, raising an eyebrow. We both try not to talk too much during our encounters. It's as if we bathe in the silence, and it only adds fuel to our little secret.

He licks the shell of my ear lightly, making me shiver in his arms. His tongue travels tediously down my neck, and he moves the hand that was groping me to unbutton the collar of my crisp white shirt. Impatiently, he yanks down on the rest of it, and I feel the rest of the buttons being ripped from their places, and hear some of them fall to the floor. I guess that's one of the great things about magic… those buttons will be back in place with the swish of my wand. As Draco pulls down my shirt, his lips move to my taught nipple, and he sucks hard. It's borderline painful, but I would cry if he stopped. He uses his hand to help guide my breast against his lips, and I let out a slight, quiet moan. I feel his lips curve a bit into a smile against me at the sound, and he uses his free hand to run his fingers through my hair and to its roots at the base of my neck. He is still holding me against him, but I start moving my hips against his, creating friction between the thin layers of my skirt and his pants. I hear his breath growing shorter, matching my own, before he suddenly picks me up and drops me feet-first onto the ground. He roughly turns me around to face the wall, and I resume grinding my ass against his front. I feel his growing bulge, as his hands take a vice-grip around my hips, where I know there will be bruises tomorrow. He brushes his fingers downward, under my skirt, and runs them up the length of my legs, until they reach the faint line of my underwear. I rotate my hips stronger against him, and he lets out a breathy sigh into my ear. Swiftly, he hooks his fingers into my panties and pulls them down.

"Are you ready, Granger?" he questions sarcastically.

"Are you?" I return in the form of our usual banter.

"Oh, yes," he replies, and pushed the small of my back downward as I grasp palms-forward to the smooth wall before me. I hear the zipper of his trousers become undone, and listen to them fall into a pool on the floor. I feel his hand travel down my back, between my lower cheeks, through my legs, and against my creases. One finger slips through my entrance, and I hold back a mew that almost escapes. He pumps his finger in and out of me, before I am immediately filled with his hard length. He holds onto my hips as he pounds into me from behind, our breathing getting heavier and heavier with each individual thrust. He goes faster, harder, until I find myself exploding around him, and relish in his dark, wondrous desire until he lets out his release with a final, deep push into me.

Afterward, we gather our clothes, and I fix my shirt. Neither of us look at one another until we are finished. Malfoy is staring at me with a depth he has never before expressed, and I simply gaze back at him. I hate him, but I'm just trying not to love him. The way he's staring at me makes me feel like he's doing the same thing.

Finally, he drops his scrutiny, and says, "Until next time, Granger."

"Never again, Malfoy."

But that's what I always say.


End file.
